


Ethereal

by blueskull



Category: Blood-C
Genre: F/M, Past Fic, fumito-centric, the violence isn't that graphic but just to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 09:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueskull/pseuds/blueskull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ethereal

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on FF.net on 02/15/14.

The party is boring. Fumito doesn't want to be there, but his parents insist.

So he sits in a crisp, clean, white suit, his hands folded neatly in his lap. The conversation around him is a mere static noise compared to the fantasy in his head. In his mind's eye, monsters are screaming at each other.

He excuses himself to the bathroom and leaves the room graciously. Inwardly, he is planning his escape from the stuffy room with snub-nosed adults. He pushes the front doors of the mansion open and the chill of the night air hits him almost instantaneously. The world is as white as his suit.

Snow is still falling from the sky. He thinks it's funny as a few white snowflakes land on his pristine, white jacket. He decides that that is what is so beautiful about colours. You can disguise anything so easily with them.

It is not long before he reaches the tree line and is among the shrubbery of the small woods in front of the large house. It is cold, but he does not mind; it is exhilarating and energizing and he loves it. It is completely different from what he experienced in _there_.

He is alive.

He reaches out to touch a mountainous fir. The branch jerks, its needles seem to spread and the snow upon the branch drifts down in a small avalanche. The blond-haired boy lets out a short laugh as the cold substance covers his shoes (white, invisible, too).

He is answered with a scream.

He whirls around, and a monster is there. It is enormous, grey, ugly, bulbous. It is not in his head.

Skeletal hands wrap around his tiny body and shake him; he tries to scream, but nothing comes out, nothing but silence as the fingers squeeze and then suddenly they are lax again. He falls into a snow bank and the world whirls about him uselessly.

When he manages to right himself, he sees one of those ugly arms, entrenched in white. It takes him a moment to realize that it is severed from its owner. Blood flecks the pure white snow, its contrast begging his attention.

But _she_ is far more deserving of it.

 _She_ , crouching just in front of the monster she felled, crimson streaking her pale skin and dark clothes. Her eyes are bright, vibrant, accusing. She is wild, blood-spattered, untamed.

And Fumito finds her extremely beautiful. A small, pale hand reaches out to try to touch the creature before him. She is gone before he can even begin to graze her skin.

He decides he wants to keep her.

It is with this thought that he returns to the mansion, remarkably unscathed, his suit as crisp and clean as it was when he left. His mother scolds him for his misadventures, but all he can think about is the beautiful girl with vibrant red eyes, like flames, iridescent crimson gemstones.

The conversation around him is a mere static noise. In his mind's eye, he sees a girl with fire eyes.


End file.
